The Satyricon — Volume 05: Crotona AffairsPetronius Arbiter
General
The Satyricon — Volume 05: Crotona Affairs
Petronius Arbiter
Rome -- Fiction; Satire, Latin -- Translations into English
I called Giton when I had finished my meditation: "Tell me, little
brother," I demanded, "tell me, on your honor: Did Ascyltos stay awake
until he had exacted his will of you, the night he stole you away from
me? Or was he content to spend the night like a chaste widow?" Wiping
his eyes the lad, in carefully chosen words took oath that Ascyltos had
used no force against him. (The truth of the matter is, that I was so
distraught with my own misfortunes that I knew not what I was saying.
"Why recall past memories which can only cause pain," said I to myself.
I then directed all my energies towards the recovery of my lost manhood.
To achieve this I was ready even to devote myself to the gods;
accordingly, I went out to invoke the aid of Priapus.) {Putting as good a
face upon the matter as I could} I knelt upon the threshold of his shrine
and invoked the God in the following verses:
"Of Bacchus and the nymphs, companion boon,
Whom fair Dione set o'er forests wide
As God: whom Lesbos and green Thasos own
For deity, whom Lydians, far and wide
Adore through all the seasons of the year;
Whose temple in his own Hypaepa placed,
Thou Dryad's joy and Bacchus', hear my prayer!
To thee I come, by no dark blood disgraced,
No shrine, in wicked lust have I profaned;
When I was poor and worn with want, I sinned
Not by intent, a pauper's sin's not banned
As of another! Unto thee I pray
Lift thou the load from off my tortured mind,
Forgive a light offense! When fortune smiles
I'll not thy glory shun and leave behind
Thy worship! Unto thee, a goat that feels
His primest vigor, father of the flocks
Shall come! And suckling pigs, the tender young
Of some fine grunting sow! New wine, in crocks
Shall foam! Thy grateful praises shall be sung
By youths who thrice shall dance around thy shrine
Happy, in youth and full of this year's wine!"
While I was engaged in this diplomatic effort in behalf of the affected
member, a hideous crone with disheveled hair, and clad in black garments
which were in great disorder, entered the shrine and, laying hands upon
me, led me {thoroughly frightened,} out into the portico.
CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOURTH.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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